


Flying In Formation

by flawedamythyst



Series: Winglets AUs [5]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Tony first meets Martin when he's pretending to be a Spitfire.
Friends-since-childhood AU.





	

The boy had his arms outstretched as he ran along the corridor of the UK offices of Stark Industries making engine noises. Tony stopped and stared at him, feeling unaccountably betrayed. Dad had said there were no other children here, _no, no toys or games either, look, Tony, just go away and entertain yourself would you? I'm busy._

“Who are you?” he asked, and the boy stopped short and turned around to stare at him with wide, scared eyes.

“I'm allowed to be here!” he said, without answering the question. “Dad's just in there,” he gestured at one of the rooms off the corridor, “but I'm not allowed in because he's doing things with electricity and it's dangerous.”

“I'm not allowed near my dad when he's working either,” said Tony. “What were you doing?”

“Being a Spitfire,” said the boy.

Tony found a smile cross his face. “Cool! Hey, how about I be a Flying Fortress and we can fly in formation?”

The Spitfire boy's face lit up with joy. “Yes!” he said, and put his arms -wings- back out again.

****

“Martin, darling, there's a letter for you,” said Mum, sounding confused. Martin looked up from his toast and held his hand out for it.

She took one look and shook her head. “Oh no, finish breakfast and wash your hands first.”

“Is there a letter for me?” asked Simon, as Martin tried to eat his toast as fast as humanly possible.

“No, dear,” she said. Simon scowled at Martin as if that was his fault.

Martin finally got to open the letter once he'd had breakfast and washed his hands, and made sure they were completely dry. The envelope was addressed to _Martin Crieff AKA Captain Spitfire_ and there was a sticker with an aeroplane on it on the back.

_Dear Spitfire,_

_Dad said we won't be back in England for months and months so I couldn't see you again, but Jarvis (Jarvis is our butler, he's awesome, he never shouts like Dad does) said I could write you a letter and maybe you'd write back and we could be penpals, like in books._

Martin grinned to himself and clutched the letter in his hand. “Mummy, can I have some paper and an envelope?” he asked. “Tony wants to be penpals.”

Simon snorted. “What kind of a dweeb would want to be penpals with you?”

Martin glared at him. “He's not a dweeb! He's Tony Stark and his dad builds aeroplanes and he builds things too and he's going to show me some of them sometime and let me fly in his Dad's plane and-”

“Oh, Martin,” said Mum. “Don't get your hopes up. America is a very long way away, you know.”

Martin could feel his face starting to crease up and he knew he was going to start crying, and then Simon was going to call him a baby, and he wouldn't get to write back to Tony.

“I want to write to him,” he forced out, tears filling up his eyes. “He likes me. We're going to be best friends.”

“You can have some paper,” said Mum, quickly. “Don't cry.”

Martin sniffed and forced the tears back down, ignoring Simon's snort. “Dweeb,” he muttered, but it didn't matter what Simon thought. Tony liked Martin, he'd said so.

****

The first time Martin flew in a plane, he held Tony's hand so tightly that Tony thought he was going to break it, and made gasping, excited noises for the whole of take-off. It was pretty awesome. Tony couldn't remember ever being impressed by flying but, somehow, seeing Martin's awe was like experiencing it for the first time himself.

“In a bit, we can go into the cockpit,” he said, and for a moment he thought Martin was going to choke to death with glee.

“Oh! OH! Really? Really truly?”

Tony sniggered. “Really truly honestly,” he said.

Martin bounced in his seat, and then just beamed at Tony, nothing behind it but pure pleasure, unlike the calculating smiles Tony got from everyone else around him. “You're the best,” he said.

“Yeah,” agreed Tony, easily, ignoring the voice that pointed out that no one else seemed to think so.

****

“Spitfire!” Tony greeted Martin over the phone, but there was something off about his voice that Martin hadn't heard before. In the background he could hear voices and music, and he thought Tony must be in the common room. American boarding schools had those like the ones in the books, right? “Please tell me your parents know you're calling me, you know they'll go nuts if they get another unexpected charge to the USA on their bill.”

“I asked permission,” said Martin, glancing over to the kitchen to where Mum was making dinner and not-so-subtly eavesdropping. “We've got five minutes.”

“We better use them well, then,” said Tony, and the voices and music shut off as if a door had been shut. “What's the big occasion?”

Martin blinked as if Tony could see him. “Your big science project, of course! How did it go?”

There was a pause, then Tony let out a strained-sounding laugh. “Of course you remembered,” he said. “It, uh, it went okay. I mean, obviously it was the best in the school and the teachers were all blown away, but I know I could have done better, I've already got a list of things to redo on it.”

“I bet it's perfect,” said Martin. “What did your dad say?”

That pause was long enough to be a silence, then Tony cleared his throat. “He, uh, couldn't make it. He ended up having a meeting to go to. I think, I don't know, I haven't talked to him, just his secretary.”

Which meant he'd either forgotten or hadn't bothered telling his secretary to put it in his calendar. Sometimes Martin really didn't like Tony's dad, even if he had designed the Starkjet. “Oh Tony,” said Martin. “I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah,” said Tony, in a low voice. “Well. What'cha gonna do? Anyway, we're having a party here to celebrate being done with the projects, well, I mean, I'm not done with mine, I want to get it working properly, I know I can make it into a proper robot with an AI and everything, not just a moving arm with a couple of programmed commands, but the others are all done and celebrating, so we've got music and food and drink and all that.”

He still sounded off, but it couldn't just be his disappointment with his dad. There was an odd slur to his words. “Sounds good,” said Martin, and then connected the dots. “Wait, drink? But-”

“It's just a little bit,” said Tony. “For celebration. No harm in a little celebration.”

Martin glanced over at where Mum had stopped what she was doing and was staring at him. Oh shit, time to cover. “That's good,” he said, as casually as he could while ants crawled over his skin. “I'd hate to think the sixth formers were giving alcohol to anyone our age, given how _young_ we are.”

Mum gave a little nod and started moving again.

“Okay,” said Tony. “I'm guessing your parents are listening in, then. Two things, though – we're not as young as all that. Plenty of people start drinking when they're fourteen, or younger. Well, plenty of people here, anyway. And, we don't have sixth formers, next time go for 'seniors', yeah?”

Martin wanted to yell at him that fourteen was way, way too young to be drinking, that he didn't care what the proper American term was, and that Tony's dad was an idiot who didn't appreciate just how awesome his son was, but he couldn't do any of that with Mum listening.

“That's five minutes, Martin,” she called, and he let out an irritated noise but didn't argue it. He'd had to grovel pretty hard to even get this much.

“I have to go,” he said to Tony. “Take care of yourself, okay? And send me photos of your robot, I want to see just how awesome it is.”

“Sure thing, Spitfire,” said Tony, cheerfully. “And, uh. Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” said Martin, and hung up.

****

Martin didn't hear about it until he got home from school. He dropped his bag by the door where his dad would yell at him to clear it up later and wandered into the sitting room, where Caitlin was already on the sofa, remote in hand.

She glanced up at him and her eyes went wide. “Oh, Martin!” she said, and just like that, he knew that something terrible had happened.

“Oh god, is it Grandma?” he croaked.

She shook her head, then just glanced at the telly. He turned to see Howard Stark's face being broadcast.

_...killed immediately on impact. His wife, Maria Stark, died of her injuries just a few short hours after being rushed to hospital. The couple leave behind..._

A photo of Tony came on screen but Martin wasn't watching any more, he was rushing for the phone.

“You can't call America without permission!” Caitlin reminded him.

“Screw that!” said Martin, already dialling the number of Tony's mobile phone. Dad was still at work and today was the day Mum helped out at the nursing home, so there was no one around for him to ask permission from, and he couldn't wait until they got back.

The phone rang for a very long time and for a moment Martin thought Tony wasn't going to answer. He was probably being hounded by all sorts of people, Martin wouldn't blame him if he'd turned it off.

He did pick up eventually, though. “Martin,” he said, very quietly, and that was how Martin knew just how bad this was. Tony only ever called him by his real name when it was important.

“Tony,” he said. “Oh, Tony. I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah,” said Tony, and he sounded drained and on the verge of tears.

“Tell me what I can do,” said Martin. “Do you want me to come over there?”

“No, hey, no, you can't do that,” said Tony. “You've got school and-”

“I'm coming,” said Martin, because he'd known Tony for ten years now and he knew exactly what it sounded like when he wasn't letting himself admit to wanting something. “I'll get a flight as soon as I can. Are you still in Boston, or are you back in New York?”

There was a pause, then Tony sighed. “I'm in Boston, but I'll probably be in New York by tomorrow.”

Martin nodded to himself. “I'll be there,” he promised.

He had to spend all the money he'd been saving for flight school to get a ticket, and then had a very long argument with his parents that he only really managed to win because Caitlin unexpectedly weighed in on his side. It was worth it, though, more than worth it, to stand next to Tony at his parent's funeral and press a supporting hand to his back while the coffins were slowly lowered into their graves. Tony deserved at least one person there who cared about him more than they cared about his money or his company.

****

“No, Tony, I'm fine,” said Martin, with that note of stubbornness that meant there was no way Tony was going to move him on this one.

“Come on, Spitfire,” said Tony, sauntering along the corridor of Stark Industries and trying to act CEO-y for his employees. He'd only been CEO for seven months and he was still trying to get it right. “I don't see the big deal. You need money, I have loads of money, I want you to achieve your dreams-”

“No,” said Martin again. “I can do this on my own.”

“Sure,” said Tony, waving at the secretary in front of his office and giving her a wink that made her go pink. Okay, interesting, he'd have to investigate that later. “You can do it on your own, but you don't _have_ to. You paid for the first two tests on your own, why not let me pay for this one? Or we could call it a loan, you can pay me back when you're a qualified pilot raking in the big bucks, if you want.”

“I don't need your charity, Tony,” said Martin, and he was beginning to sound angry, which was the complete opposite of what Tony wanted.

He let out a sigh. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said, giving in. “Just, the offer is always there, okay? Any time you need it.”

“I won't need it,” said Martin firmly.

After he'd hung up, Tony went back out to chat to the secretary. She was blonde and a woman and didn't seem to have any freckles, but she was actually willing to say yes to him, unlike the guy he actually wanted.

****

“Uh, actually, Carolyn, I won't need a hotel room for New York,” said Martin.

Her face lit up with both surprise and pleasure. Mostly pleasure. “Excellent! That makes you my new favourite pilot. Douglas, take note.”

“Of course, Carolyn,” said Douglas. “I'll stop requiring a place to sleep at night immediately. What was I thinking?”

“Where are you going to stay then, Skip?” asked Arthur. “Ooh! Are you going to stay on GERTI all night? Mum, can I stay too? Like camping?”

“No, Arthur,” said Carolyn.

“I've got a friend I can stay with,” said Martin. He'd learnt a very long time ago that it was better not to mention Tony's name, because it only made people either think he was a chronic liar with delusions of grandeur, or their path to getting the attention of the great Tony Stark.

“A friend?” repeat Douglas, with deep scepticism. “How on earth did you get one of those?”

Martin gave a shrug because, to be honest, he'd never really been sure why Tony had become his friend, and definitely didn't know why he'd remained his friend all these years. That was one of the many, many reasons that Martin had never tried to make it into more then friendship. If he didn't know why Tony was friends with him, how could he risk messing that up by trying to kiss him, or ask him on a date, or even just stroking his hand through Tony's hair like he so desperately wanted to?

“He liked my aeroplane impressions,” he said, and left it at that.

****

Having escaped from the third-rate celebrities masquerading as VIPs and found the Pilot's Lounge to be blissfully empty, Tony was more than irritated to hear the door being pushed open before he'd managed to properly nod off. He kept his eyes resolutely shut, hoping not to get recognised, right up until he heard a beautifully familiar voice.

“Tony! What are you doing here?”

He opened his eyes to see Martin at the door and immediately sat up, grinning. “Spitfire! Of all the airports in all the world... I'm guessing I'm doing the same thing here as you are, being stormbound.”

He couldn't stay sitting down, not when presented with the sight of Martin in front of him, in uniform and looking shockingly sexy. Tony stood up and stepped towards him, holding out his hand to be shaken and then giving in and allowing himself a hug instead.

There was an older man with Martin who was darting looks between the two of them. Tony stood up and held out his hand. “Hey, you must be Douglas. I've heard a lot about you.”

Douglas turned to stare at Martin as he shook Tony's hand. “Really? How flattering. Oddly, Martin doesn't seem to have mentioned a word about knowing you.”

“Because if I'd mentioned that my best friend was Tony Stark, you'd have believed me,” said Martin, and Tony had to work very hard to keep the warm glow at the idea of being Martin's best friend off his face. “And not at all taken the piss.”

“Best friend?” repeated Douglas. “Golly.”

Tony ignored him. “This is so awesome, I had no idea you guys were flying out this way.”

“It was a bit of a last minute thing,” said Martin. “One of Carolyn's specials.”

“Man, let's hope the storm closes the airport down all night,” said Tony. “I haven't seen you in weeks, and I've got the prototype for the Starkjet 5000 here, I know you've been wanting to see that.”

Martin's eyes lit up in exactly the way they always did when Tony mentioned new aviation technology, the way that was at least eighty percent of the reason why he kept designing new planes. “Oh, oh! Does it have the new winglet design?”

Tony grinned. “You bet it does,” he said, and for a moment he thought Martin was going to pass out at the idea. Why the hell couldn't he get Martin to look like that about Tony himself, rather than just about his tech?

****

Martin wasn't sure he was going to be able to get used to having Douglas and Arthur staying at Tony's, but then, he'd thought that about the Avengers moving in and he was just about capable of making conversation with Captain America without choking now.

Still, he had no idea how Arthur had managed to make friends with Thor so quickly. How did he skip the being-mute-with-awe thing?

“They’re in the kitchen,” said Steve. “What’s the worst that could happen in a kitchen?”

“A Stark kitchen?” asked Tony. “Depends on if they get hold of the toaster or not – I made some modifications when I was on that caffeine high last month, and now I’m pretty sure we could use it to-”

At that moment, something in the kitchen exploded. The building shook, a couple of Tony’s expensive tumblers fell off the bar and shattered, and a cloud of smoke billowed out of the archway to the kitchen.

It felt like Martin's heart had stopped with terror as Tony threw himself at Martin, pulling him down and tucking himself around as much of him as he could.

“Oh God!” said Martin, unable to keep in his panic. “What was that?! Are we under attack?! Oh God!”

“No need to panic,” said Douglas, although he looked a lot more shaken than his words implied. “I suspect that was just the toaster.”

Martin looked up at Tony's face, which was very close. He was still wrapped around Martin, clinging on as if he didn't want to risk letting go yet. Had Tony's first thought on an explosion really been to keep Martin safe? “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, are you?” asked Tony, still not letting go.

Martin patted at his arm. “Of course. I've got my very own superhero to look out for me.”

Tony's face creased into one of the small smiles that only came out when he'd lowered his masks enough to show how he was really feeling. Martin felt his heart swell with affection for him and he couldn't keep himself from adding, “He's my favourite, you know.”

He stroked over Tony's arm, sickeningly aware of how much he was probably giving away right now, but his heart was still thumping with panic and he had Tony's body pressed against his, and he couldn't really think properly.

Something on Tony's face changed, as if he'd just had one of his sudden engineering epiphanies, but instead of leaping up to get to the workshop as soon as he could, he let out a breath. “Martin,” he said, in a very low voice. “Oh god, Martin. Please don't let me be wrong about this.”

Before Martin could ask what he was talking about, Tony had leaned in and kissed him. Martin froze with surprise and Tony started to pull away. Martin couldn't allow that. He pulled Tony back in and kissed him back, possibly a bit too fervently.

Dimly, he heard Douglas say something that sounded scathing, but he couldn't bring himself to pay attention, not when Tony was relaxing against him and kissing him back with just as much passion. Oh god, had he been feeling the same way as Martin this whole time? Why the hell had they wasted all those years?


End file.
